Pirates of Marauda: The Inheritance

By Forest Fox and Eli D'Elia

In this third book of the Pirates of Marauda series, Terran, the ruthless captain of the spaceship Maraudor, is closer than ever to possessing the most coveted treasure in the Universe: the all-powerful Esseen Crystals. From within a UFO in the Bermuda Triangle, the cosmic jewels are casting an irresistible euphoria over all of the peoples of the Earth–except for the greediest scoundrels. Realizing that Bob and his sons are the key to gaining entry to the UFO, the space pirate snatches them from their Paintball Jungle. But just as he gets his hands on the Crystals, he is hijacked by the robots of the Illuminosity, who take Bob captive along with the prize. Ultimately, the boys are faced with the decision to either rescue the Crystals for the sake of humanity or save their dad. They cannot do both.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Forest Fox Press
• Release date: Jun 23, 2022
• ISBN: 9780982651469

Book preview

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PIRATES OF MARAUDA

Book 3:

THE INHERITANCE

by

FOREST FOX

Cover Art by

Eli D’Elia

FOREST FOX PRESS

Edited by Paul Weisser, PhD

Berkeley, California

Published by Forest Fox Press

Post Office Box 5694

Vallejo, CA 94591

[e-mail]

www.forestfoxpress.com

Manufactured in the United States of America

Copyright © 2013 by Forest Fox

All Rights Reserved

ISBN 978-0-9826514-6-9

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without permission in writing from the author, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review.

Any similarity to reality is purely intentional.

This book is dedicated with fond respect and appreciation to all

who helped me, too many to list here. You know who you are.

I

II

III

I

As the USS Vallejo sliced through moderate seas, dawn was breaking over the hoary Atlantic. Radioman Barrett was jolted out of his reverie when the alarm signaling an urgent message came across his panel.

The sailor snapped into action. Con, Radio! We are receiving flash traffic…, an emergency action message. Recommend Alert One…, Alert One!

The men of the USS Vallejo and her sister ship, the California, responded at once to the alarm. The orders from Central Command were concise.

Those coordinates, Captain, asked Barrett, is that where I think it is?

Ignoring the question, the commander of the underwater demolition team said, Send word to the California…, we’re to set course for these coordinates, best possible speed. We need to cover six hundred and forty miles.

Both anti-sub class frigates proceeded at flank speed. Neither Barrett nor the captain wanted to say aloud that their orders were sailing them straight for the Bermuda Triangle.

Not only did Bob and his sons have the undeniable pictures they had taken of an alien craft under water, but they also had a fantastic experience that they had been completely unaware of until discovering it through hypnosis. After assessing the situation, their family physician, Dr. David Abblett, suggested that they send the file of their discovery to his brother in Washington, who just happened to be the nation’s top oceanographer.

Having such an inside track to the powers that be made the whole idea of actually recovering their find seem possible. However, as the weeks that followed the doctor’s report to Washington passed by without any response, Bob, Eli, and Zoe grew frustrated, insisting that Dr. Dave solicit some kind of response about their project from his brother. A week later, a brief note arrived from the master oceanographer, saying that the matter was being scrutinized, and thanking them for their input.

It’s as if we sent in a dead fish for testing, was all Bob said when the boys read him the message.

A few days after that dismal brush off from Washington, the networks were broadcasting stories about a classified operation that had been discovered by not one, but at least six, other nations. In the days that followed, the media focused on the accusation that France had stolen the information and had sold it to the highest bidders. As fervor grew over the greed of the French, contradictory stories came out, claiming that France and the other nations had merely found the information on the Internet, where it had been temporarily misposted.

After a full week of news stories that described the tensions and ramifications of the U.S. losing control of a secret project, no one had ever mentioned what the jeopardized project was about. Of course, this could not go on, and it soon became evident that whatever the secret was, it was happening at sea.

The phone was on its third ring. The next one would switch over to the answering machine, and the moment of excitement would be gone but not forgotten.

Eli pleaded into the receiver, Come on, pick it up!

Zoe answered just in the nick of time.

Hello?

Zoe, turn on the news…, hurry!

Okay. What channel?

"Any channel! Is Dad there?"

Yeah, he’s right here.

I’m coming over!

What’s up? Bob asked.

I don’t know, said Zoe. Something on the news.

As Bob turned on the network news, the anchor was recapping the current events about what seemed to be the usual international mishmash of the times.

What about it? Bob asked.

The scene suddenly changed to a correspondent standing on the weather deck of the USS Newport News, shouting into his microphone.

We’re proceeding at flank speed, said the correspondent, to a location in the Atlantic known as the Bermuda Triangle. We have new information indicating the discovery of a UFO believed to be submerged two hundred feet below the surface.

Stunned, Bob and Zoe were still staring at the screen midway through the cat food commercial.

The incredible story of the submerged alien craft swept the globe, kindling an unprecedented wave of interest as an international race ensued to possess the prize that promised unimaginable revelations.

Bob, Zoe, and Eli were crushed to realize that they were helpless to do anything but watch as their discovery was being wrenched from them.

Within seventy-two hours of first receiving the submission from his brother, master oceanographer Dr. Brendan Abblett personally pushed his assessment and recommendations through channels to expedite their journey to the Joint Chiefs of Staff. Within two days of that meeting, there were two navy frigates hovering over the coordinates with six underwater demolition teams scouring the sea floor in search of the prize.

The leak of the classified report was a handicap the U.S. would have to contend with. As it turned out, only the pictures, the coordinates, and some comments had actually been discovered by the rest of the world. The missing link—the part of the puzzle that contained the account of the deeds and events that went with the pictures—still remained in the sole possession of the U.S. The evidence demanded that the government spare no expenditure to retrieve what could be the most important artifact of civilization—the craft that brought the first humans to Earth.

The daily news continued to be dominated by unprecedented interest in the flying saucer and the efforts to recover it. While facts were sparse, the media made the most of what they had as extravagant hours of discussion and speculation flowed out over the airwaves.

Bob had had enough. The frustration of being ignored day after day had pushed him beyond his breaking point.

Let’s bring the whole thing to the newspapers, he said. "Maybe they’ll be interested in our version of why everyone is rushing out to the middle of the Atlantic."

Ever since Dr. Dave had sent their file to his brother, Bob and the boys had been hoping against hope that the phone would ring and they would be included in the effort to locate and raise their discovery.

The media frenzy gave them a new grip on their position in all this, so they agreed that Bob’s idea would be their next plan of action. Armed with copies of their complete file from Dr. Dave, together with their irrefutable photos, they started for the front door, when suddenly the doorbell rang.

Looking out the window, Bob gasped, "Jee-zus!" with that unmistakable look on his face that always accompanied his word for alarm.

It was obvious from the black unmarked car blocking the driveway that they were being called on by the Feds. The government license plates confirmed it.

The taller of the two trim six-footers in blue suits began to speak as soon as Bob opened the door.

Good morning, gentlemen, said the suit. Allow me to introduce ourselves. This is Special Agent Brock, and I’m Special Agent Hess. We’re here in regards to your correspondence with Doctor Abblett of the Oceanographic Institute.

At a loss for words, Zoe and Eli stood frozen, amazed that they were finally being acknowledged. Bob simply glanced at the men’s credentials and invited them in. The tension of the moment dissipated as everyone sat down around the kitchen table.

As you can see, Hess began, "this discovery of yours has already ignited an international effort to possess whatever it is you found. While it’s true that things got out of hand because of our own misposting of the information, it’s also true that all of the other countries only have some of the crucial facts. Your file, the reports from your family doctor containing the fantastic story of your alleged experiences, remains top secret."

At the words top secret, Bob, Eli, and Zoe looked like the cat that had swallowed the canary.

Hess took a breath while they digested what he was telling them. Then he continued, Please understand that because your records are now classified, any disclosure of them will result in severe penalties. This, of course, means you must never mention your relationship to any of this.

Agent Hess’s crushing statement had a numbing effect on the trio as they considered the potential trouble they might already be in for sharing the pictures and story with friends.

When the time is appropriate, said Hess, rest assured that the government has every intention of making a formal acknowledgment of your contribution.

This conciliatory afterthought hardly cushioned the foreboding shock Hess had instilled in his listeners.

After making his official statement, Hess had nothing more to say.

"I guess you’re gonna want these, then," Bob said, pushing his copy of the file across the table.

Agent Brock gathered up the papers, and both men quickly took their leave.

The trio watched out the window as the black car drove off.

Bob was the first to speak: Another five minutes, and they would’ve missed us. That was a lucky piece of timing for them, I’d say.

Zoe, who was thoroughly annoyed, looked over at Eli with a sarcastic grin. "Yeah, great timing or something, he said. More likely, something. They’re not known for their intuition."

You think they’re watching us? Bob asked. Maybe they’ve got the place bugged! He was more serious than melodramatic.

With or without any records, Eli said, there isn’t much we can do about anything anyway. It’s out of our hands…. And good riddance, I say!

That’s our find out there, and we’re letting it get away! Zoe said, totally frustrated.

Yeah, I know, Bob said. But there’s nothing we can do about it!

The next international competitor to arrive over the site were the French, with two nuclear cruisers, a tactical carrier, and the Napoleon, their state-of-the-art deep sea rescue vehicle (DSRV). The U.S. now had eight large ships of various designations, in addition to the underwater demolition teams, which had been on the scene even before the story broke.

The divers had had more than enough time to scour the entire area’s sandy bottom before the international community began to arrive. After their inclusive scan, it became obvious that the craft pictured in the not so top-secret photos was nowhere to be found, leaving only two possibilities: either the mysterious craft had taken off, or it had somehow slipped over the edge of the newly formed sea cliff into the boundless abyss. This latter scenario was most likely, given the several undersea quakes that had rocked the area since the pictures were taken almost a year before.

Even with the grim prospect of undertaking an abyssal search, the U.S. remained undaunted in its intention to retrieve the prize. While the American team waited for the newly commissioned super-DSRV Trieste III to be delivered to the scene, they mapped out their plans for a search that promised to test all of the latest equipment to the limits.

The Navy divers were kept busy going back and forth from their underwater docking station to the furthest point on the original search field’s perimeter, where they erected a decoy base of operations. From there, they strung cables out to an array of lights, boxes, and scientific equipment to give the impression that they were focusing on a point even further away from the abyss.

Falling for this sham, the French team started building a base not far from the Americans’ hoax. This tactic duped the next five international teams in the same way.

By the time the American charade was discovered, the Trieste III had already located the saucer in its new resting place. To the Americans’ delight, their remote